


The Last Thing You Need To Fear

by Pyrozod



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Ghost John, Ghosts, Horror, Humanstuck, Non-binary character, Only for the first chapter though, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Screenplay/Script Format, Suicide mention, Trans Character, Urban Exploration, Vlogging Gone Wrong, suffocation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-01-06 04:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrozod/pseuds/Pyrozod
Summary: Aradia is a medium. She has been hearing the voices of the dead since she was very young, her life since has revolved around the paranormal.Eridan is a skeptic. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything, and even if there isn't one, ghosts just don't cut it.Dave isn't sure which way he leans, but honestly he's having a great time watching the two try and one up each other. Also, breaking into creepy old buildings is right up his alley.Through a shared love of urban exploration, the unlikely trio decide to start a web show, filming their exploits through the abandoned and the derelict. It's all in good fun, isn't it?...John Egbert died years ago, and no one seemed to care. When the three teens stumble across across the mysteries surrounding his death, they're the only ones who seem to notice that things don't add up. That something is trying to reach them across the veil.That there may be more than just an unsolved murder they need to start worrying about.





	1. Transcript

**Author's Note:**

> After not writing fanfic for literal years, spite gave me the motivation for a Homestuck fanfic revolving around a ghost hunting crew getting in way over their head. I even managed to get it out just in time for Halloween! Let me know what you think. Also, the script format is meant to be just for this chapter, though it may crop up once or twice later on.
> 
> Special thanks to Jake for helping me proofread. Love ya!

[BEGIN TRANSCRIPT]

[Brief static, the sound of rustling while the camera slowly came into focus. The slightly shaky image of a face filled a good half of the screen. He looked to be in his teens. His eyes were hidden by a pair of aviators which reflected the camera right back towards it. By the way the camera bobbed, he seemed to be in motion, though the dubious quality of the light had everything else partially in shadow. Where he’s going seemed to be a mystery.]

DAVE: Welcome to Ghost Fisters United, it’s a lovely night here in the sticks of good old W.A. and-

[A deep, cheery voice cut him off, the speaker off-camera]

ARADIA: I don’t remember agreeing to that name, or it even coming up in the brainstorming session at all.

DAVE: The correct response to that is a resounding ‘Yes, and’, not roasting my meaty giblets two seconds out of the starting gate. The horses are loose, this racetrack has become a full-on barnyard, chaos is about to reign, pun entirely intended.

ARADIA: I just think it doesn’t really make much sense! I mean, fisting ghosts? Is that how we want to be known? Is that your end goal here???

DAVE: Look Aradia, I’m laying out my fantasies for everyone to see. Besides, it’s a work in progress, consider this our pilot episode, see if the plane can fly without falling into a downward spiral straight into the nearest mudfield. Now as I was saying-

[Another off-camera voice, more irritable than the first. It’s accented, but with no clear country of origin.]

ERIDAN: Turn the camera around and actually get some usable footage, no one’s tunin’ in just to watch you flaunt your ugly mug two inches from the screen.

DAVE: Speak for yourself, my vlogs have been taking off lately, I’m rising to new heights, you’re standing within the radiant light of an up-and-coming star. I’m giving the people what they want, and that’s ghosts, spooky dilapidated bullshit, and some eye candy to bring the whole look together. Maybe we could be called ‘Spooky Dilapidated Bullshit’.

ARADIA: [Leading, still off-camera] Maybe you could get a few shots of the house, before we try breaking in?

[Dave tilted his head back as his eyes rolled to high heavens, inferred though not seen]

DAVE: First off, it’s not technically breaking in if the place is so abandoned even the squatters have squatters taking advantage of their rights. I was getting to the filming after you fixed the lighting, if either of you would let me _finish my spiel._

[There was the sound of a scoff, presumably emanating from Eridan.]

DAVE: Thank you. Anyway, as you just heard I’m joined by Aradia and the one-person production crew, Eridan. Fuckin’, where was I...

[Static transition, which opens back up to Dave, this time with the camera aimed so he and their destination shared the frame.]

DAVE: 215-... Fuck. 21_60_5, Fir Drive. The last bastion against a safe, suburban neighborhood. Once upon a time, the gold star standard of the local homeowner’s association. Now the dilapidated mess local PTA member Sharon advocates for its destruction at every council meeting. Her dear little Timmy just can’t bear to see things that haven’t been doused in three liters of Lysol. Point to Sharon here, the place looks like a piece of hot garbage that’s been marinating in its own abandonment for the past twentyish years. Which, hey, it has been. Great segue me, remember to do that again in the inevitable voice over work, the wind out here is gonna make the audio sound like ass.

[He finally stopped walking, the camera dipped and shook, facing the cracked pavement before flipping it around with another dizzying motion. The initial image was blurry, but as the camera adjusted both the house, and a stout, curly haired figure who still stood in frame, came into focus. Aradia quickly scooted out of the way to let Dave capture a wide shot of the exterior. On first inspection, it appeared abandoned, but not-falling-down-on-itself derelict. The wood beams were pockmarked, but still seemed sturdy. One of the bottom floor windows had been boarded up, though the others were so cloudy as to have about the same level of visibility through them. What could be seen of the whitewash paint through encroaching vines had taken on an unflattering yellowish hue. The entire scene was framed by jagged trees scraping the evening sky, a suburban landscape desperately in need of a trim.]

ARADIA: I think it’s actually pretty charming, considering every other house along the road is incredibly boring when you actually take a look at them. Nothing to set them apart from each other.

ERIDAN: I’ll take a dead-end, middle-class jungle over a shithouse which looks like the next faint breeze is goin’ to end up bein’ its last stand.

ARADIA: I’d say if the structural integrity were that weak, it’d probably have come down while Dave was taking his time fiddling with the night vision settings on his camera.

ERIDAN: _My_ camera, you mean.

ARADIA: Your camera, which he is using.

DAVE: A really nice camera, with some really nice night vision settings.

[While the conversation continued, Dave had crunched his way through the overgrown grass, occasionally pausing to get a different angle: front on, from the side looking up, standing at the lowest step of the porch. The camera still shook slightly, and whistles and static were common with the rush of the light breeze.]

ERIDAN: Could we at LEAST move around to the back before you start fiddlin’ the windows open? It’s not like it’s the middle of the godforsaken night, late evenin’ commuters will be _right there_.

DAVE: I was getting to that. Lucky you, you get your camera back, stop griping about it. I’m going to need Aradia’s upper body strength while you declare your undying love for expensive electronics.

[The camera was turned again, thrust into a protesting Eridan’s hands. After a moment of the camera shaking, Eridan was cut off mid-swear with a static transition, their dour expression met the camera a moment later when everything came back into focus, the backdrop now the vine covered side of the house.]

ERIDAN: Fuckin’ typical really, I apply the backbone of this whole pain in the ass fuckin’ excursion and end up walked all over anyway.

[They turned their head, camera tilting in the direction of the duo currently attempting to jimmy open one of the side windows.]

ERIDAN: I DO have a decent amount of upper body strength, why do I get landed with filmin’ duty?

ARADIA: If he doesn’t hurry up with unlocking the thingy, I’ll gladly swap! Besides, you’d have complained if you were hoisting him up there anyway, don’t try and pretend you wouldn’t!

DAVE: Just give me a second here... Obviously, everything’s locked up tighter than a jar of Kosher Dill; thing about these old window locks is, they can’t keep a Strider out of them.

ARADIA: Sooner, rather than later, would be nice.

[The camera cut again, though only a few seconds seemed to pass before it jumped back into the scene. Dave had one foot through the window, given a leg up by a disgruntled Aradia, only to hit his head on the window frame as he entered.]

DAVE: Ow.

[Sound of Eridan snorting and a giggle from Aradia, followed by another cut as Dave stumbled the rest of the way inside. Dave was once again holding the camera at about shoulder height. Behind him, Aradia was helping Eridan the rest of the way through the open window.]

DAVE: Well, that wasn’t too hard. Ass, be fully prepared to be bitten. I’m throwing hubris to the wind and when it comes yipping back I’m going to deserve it taking a chunk out of my succulent derriere. In the meanwhile, check out how sick this is.

[With a whipping blur, Dave’s face disappeared to be replaced by a kitchen covered in a fine layer of dust. Despite this, there were still the odd evidence of human inhabitants, though clearly not any time within the last few years. The only lighting was the dwindling rays of sunset slipping through the windows that weren’t boarded up. They cast deep shadows which morphed and twisted as he stepped around the kitchen, blocking out what little light there had been.]

DAVE: Look at this shit. Plates left out, chairs all askew. It’s a bit dusty but hey, I wouldn’t judge. We don’t use the counters for jack except as a puppet dissecting ground.

ARADIA: As most tend to do!

ERIDAN: Mind speakin’ for yourselves, could be the people who lived here were utterly fuckin’ normal and weren’t layin’ out cloth effigies on the sacrificial kitchen tableau.

ARADIA: No, I’m pretty sure they did. That is definitely a desecrated clown doll just lying out in the open.

DAVE: Shh, way to ruin the surprise. Holy fuck.

[The camera shook and aimed downwards. Wrapped around one of the chair legs was a muddy doll. Grimy stuffing fell from its slit right eye, along with its right shoulder where one arm had been completely torn off. It laid forlornly on the grubby tile with the harlequin smile crisp and unfaded.]

DAVE: Look at that thing. Creepy as balls.

ERIDAN: Obviously, the previous inhabitants had a penchant for collectin’ ragdolls and it managed to get left along with everythin’ else. The edges of the cloth are frayed, not slashed. Probably some vermin crawlin’ around are to blame. God this place is a shithole.

ARADIA: We didn’t even ask you to start poking holes in the paranormal stuff yet. He didn’t say anything about the doll being haunted!

ERIDAN: That’s the WHOLE BLEEDIN’ PURPOSE of you bringin’ me along. You should be THANKIN’ me for nippin’ the whole goddamn speech about how it clearly is the work of a dissatisfied pile a ectoplasm takin’ out its gripes on the last remainders of its worthless existence.

DAVE: I know you’re vexed about the whole, ‘saving the cool abandoned Victorian houses for later episodes’ thing, but you can reign in the frankly uncalled for accusations. I’m feeling attacked. My own crew turning against me, I can feel the mutiny stirring beneath the surface. Aradia? You mind telling the ghost to make room for an impromptu roommate? I feel like I’m going to be moving in by the end of the episode, live and on camera.

ERIDAN: ...

DAVE: Which is to say, yes I was totally going to, you dick. You keep ruining the dramatic irony of my scenes... Hold up, Aradia’s doing some creepy shit already, everybody hit the pause button for a second.

[The camera, which had been making a slow 360 degree turn around the room, settled slowly on Aradia, still standing near the open window. She looked pensive, her eyes closed, and had a small furrow in her brow. She held the moment, then her face twitched. She breathed in slowly, and then opened her eyes, which looked suddenly bright.]

ARADIA: I don’t feel anything in here. It has some vibes, but I don’t think anything has noticed us yet... Also, I definitely wouldn’t have told them that. The spirit probably wouldn’t like it much.

ERIDAN: [Dryly] I can’t imagine the dead likin’ much of anythin’, can’t dislike much anythin’ for that fuckin’ matter.

ARADIA: You can at least save it until I give my own side of the story! Your sheer narrowmindedness is going to bring the whole show down before we even start it.

ERIDAN: It’s not bein’ narrow minded I’m tryin’ to be REALISTIC. Just hand her the damn camera already-

[Another brief static, and this time it’s Aradia’s smiling face that took up a third portion of the camera. It’s darker around them and the scenery showed they had moved to the living room, which looked even more characteristically musty than the kitchen. She stood against the fireplace, where several framed and dusty photo frames were set up in a line. Below, the fireplace still looked to be ashy and covered in soot, smudges running along the walls and out of frame. There was no longer enough light from the windows to see by, but a bright artificial light gave enough to illuminate each picture, with the glare off the glass often getting in the way.]

ARADIA: Helloooo there! Testing, testing? It should be working already, sorry! Let’s try again, welcome to Small, _Mediums_, and Large-

ERIDAN: [Cutting in quickly] We didn’t agree to that name either. As a GROUP, not as a spur of the moment individual hankerin’ for a name that makes us sound like the line-up on a combo menu.

ARADIA: [Very slight eye roll] I thought you said you were letting me take center stage for a moment? If I knew you were just going to butt in, I’d have given you the camera back!

ERIDAN: You’ve been burstin’ at the seams to start ramblin’ about this place since we GOT here, I’m just makin’ it clear that this namin’ scheme is gettin’ worse the longer we deliberate.

ARADIA: Okay, just a working title then. If you can come up with something better, let’s hear it.

ERIDAN: What about Memento Mori?

DAVE: [Barely audible, from far away]: I can hear the pretentious Latin from here. It’s been done before, in approximately two million different ways since some Roman scholar coined it thousands of years ago.

ARADIA: So, could you say it’s been done to death?

ERIDAN: Oh for the sake of Poseidon’s salty asshole, no. This is EXACTLY why we aren’t doin’ puns for names.

ARADIA: We got off track. If you come up with any other names, let me know. In the meantime, I’ll tell people about what they’ve been sitting through our nonsense for, alright?

[No response but a long suffering sigh, and of something which shuffled away, the light bobbing as the unseen Eridan took a few paces back. Aradia smiled a bit wider.]

ARADIA: Good! Okay, here we are. This house doesn’t have any names given to it. It’s not pretentious enough to have a name like ‘The Maple Murder House’ or ‘The Fir Drive Shack’. Notice how I came up with those off the top of my head? It really shows the lack of creativity people have when naming places of great tragedy. It’s a lot better this way, not having a fancy name for itself I mean. Really gets rid of the usual sensationalization, but it wasn’t enough to keep it from some kinds of notoriety.

[She swung the camera around to a full view of the mantleplace, waiting for it to focus on the contents of the dust coated picture frames before she continued. Each depicted a clean shaven older man, and a child slowly working through the years towards being a teenager. A swift progression from pudgy to awkward.]

ARADIA: No one’s even bothered to take out the things, see. John Egbert and his father, James Egbert, called this house their home until April of 1996. Rumors circulating would have you believe that one still calls it his home, but that’s me getting a bit ahead of myself. Oh no- a spoiler about ghosts, in a show about uncovering whether ghosts really exist!

[The camera panned over to the right in a smooth streak that ended in a focus on the last photo in line. A boy at his birthday party, his smile sheepish as he sat in front of his cake. Candles showed the number ‘15’ embedded into the blue icing. A long moment was delegated to the portrait before the camera was again turned. Both of them were in view, with the girl taking up the left side of the video.]

ARADIA: That’s the last of the birthday parties they’d want to put up on the mantelpiece, I think. On the morning of his sixteenth birthday, his father woke up at his usual time. 5 A.M on the dot, to do some baking for later, during the party. It wasn’t until he checked in at 8:16 to see why his son wasn’t awake yet did he find him. Face blue, half fallen out of bed with the comforter still twisted around his ankles, John had suffocated in his sleep.

ERIDAN: Obviously if that doesn’t sound like revisionist’s bullshit to you you ought to look back and take a good, long look at what you’re usin’ your squishy grey matter for and give it a tune-up ‘cause it clearly isn’t up to snuff.

ARADIA: You wouldn’t be the only one thinking that. When the police were called, James was the highest on the list of suspects. No one else lives here, no locks were forced, and people don’t usually tend to have their throats close up on themselves during the night either. But the thing is, they weren’t ever able to prove he did it. There were no markings on his throat, nothing that indicated anyone had even touched him. Strangulation tends to leave some kind of evidence.

ERIDAN: He had an allergic reaction or somethin’ in his sleep, if he wasn’t murdered by the one other person in the house. Doesn’t have to be some kinda supernaturally enhanced buncha malarky yet I refuse to let it be.

ARADIA: No one was saying it _was_, dummy. At this point, it’s ruled an accident. Something to do with asthma was the official death ruling if I remember correctly. Had it when he was young, they thought he was over it and had an attack in the middle of the night, though there were some arguments for a reaction, or an attempted suicide.

ERIDAN: Were they just pointin’ fingers at everythin’ and anythin’?

ARADIA: No, he was just one of the suspects from the wild speculation. John had an intense peanut allergy, apparently. They were just rumors that James had poisoned him, which they couldn’t actually confirm or disprove after the autopsy. People ran with it because it was sensational.

[Throughout all of this, even as she described the details of a tragic death, Aradia had kept her smile. Eridan has had their eyebrows steadily rising.]

ERIDAN: To paint a better picture, some dimwit MAYBE suffocates in his sleep and they erect a whole urban legend wankin’ off the fact that no one ever bought the place. It’s ‘cause the housin’ market is SHIT. It’s cause it’s TECHNICALLY still in the guy’s name. James couldn’t face the accusations of murder and his own son dyin’ and fled the bloody scene. Even the trained professions can’t decide which is which and what happened where.

ARADIA: There was surprisingly little blood at the scene, actually.

ERIDAN: You KNOW what I mean.

ARADIA: I also know you’re being an insensitive prick. Let’s go find Dave, you’ll balance each other out a little.

ERIDAN: Fine, but I get the camera again. The least I get to do is wave that thing around as we’re walkin’ the desecrated halls.

ARADIA: I thought you said you didn’t want to film?

ERIDAN: I didn’t want to be the camera lackey is what I didn’t want to be, the one delegated to it outta necessity plain and simple. I get to plan out my own destiny and if it’s paradin’ around the rotted timbers of a house followin’ about my hapless cohorts then so be it.

ARADIA: Sheesh, trade you for the flashlight then.

[There’s a flash of static and the viewpoint abruptly became Eridan’s, leading the way up a carpeted stairwell. The ground was covered in white specks and plaster, though clear footprints split the way in half. The dull thunk of muffled footsteps echoed from above.]

ARADIA: [Raised voice] Find anything interesting up there?

DAVE: [In the distance]: Oh no, nothing at all. Just scouting for homeless people so we don’t end up shanked with a sharpened bedpost.

ARADIA: So long as nobody is getting stabbed by random squatters, I suppose!

DAVE: And by ‘Nothing at all’ I mean ‘Get your asses up here’, I’m having to resort to something I never thought I’d put myself through again.

ERIDAN: We’re comin’, keep your panties on.

[The camera bobbed as they headed up the stairs, and for a moment the camera swung around the landing. They faced the door directly opposite the stairs, but paused there.]

ERIDAN: Hold on...

[The view changed to the white walls of the corridor, which had been relatively uniform until then. There were crayon doodles all over the walls, mostly in shades of red or green. Scribbles of blue scratched over the other drawings like claw marks. Age showed in the faded colors and streaks of grime which had accumulated over the years.]

ERIDAN: It’s like some dragged a chunk of wax along the wall while headed across the way. Not a particularly skilled artist, were they?

DAVE: [Muffled] Yeah, there’s a lot more here. Dude must have Jackson Pollock as one of his idols. Hell, I do too, takes effort to get assloads of money for accidentally spilling your drink onto a canvas and owning it.

[Slowly they advanced down the hall, with several crayon creatures becoming visible. Most were unidentifiable, but a few of the unclear shapes had the threatening hallmarks of a monster, or some kind of beast. Usually through claws or bloody teeth set into smiles.]

ARADIA: You know, I’d say this were a bit heavy handed if I were watching this as an internet bystander. That has to lend some credence to us not being paid actors, right?

ERIDAN: ...Maybe. There’s ways to paste on some schlock and grime, but it’s hard to make it look convincin’ without a load of effects on top of the hodge podge you already slapped together makin’ the look.

[One moment lingering longer, then Eridan turned back towards the slightly ajar door. Aradia was in frame for only a moment, her bushy hair obscuring most of it. After shouldering ahead, the image of John’s room came into view. Like the rest of the house, it was surprisingly neat save for the dust and grime. Rather than move around the room like Eridan had been doing, it immediately settled on the bed, where Dave had made his home. His arms spread eagle, his legs hanging off the side while he stared at a small television screen playing crackly audio on the nightstand.]

ERIDAN: You know that’s where he fuckin’ died, right?

DAVE: Yeah.

ERIDAN: So long as you’re well aware.

DAVE: [Lifting an arm to point at the wall.] Did you see this?

ERIDAN: I was GETTIN’ to that, it’s a big screamin’ sign beggin’ to be looked at, it can wait it's god damn turn. First order of business, where’s the power for the TV comin’ from?

DAVE: Straight outta my ass, as far as I can tell. I don’t want to open the hatch to check whether the batteries are still good, or whether they’re covered in about twenty years worth of leaking acid. I’m squeezing the last bit of life out of this thing while I can.

[He gestured towards the fuzzy screen next. Static crept up the corners, and the colors had a washed out quality to them, but it still showed the film with a decent amount of detail.]

DAVE: While you were getting jiggy with the history of this place, I was perusing Home Alone II: Lost In New York with my boy Kevin over here.

ERIDAN: If you could CONCENTRATE, we’re pioneerin’ an expedition into territory lost to the ages, not foolin’ around with the relics lyin’ about.

[The camera picked up their impatient sigh, then it swung a fraction of an inch upwards. The walls, which had been sighted for only a moment as Eridan entered, were now in full view. This is where most of the doodles looked to be concentrated, drawn over and over on top of each other, in marker and crayon, until the whole thing became a disorientating mess of colors. They even covered the movie posters which still hung, sagging and ripped For a moment, the night vision clicked on, showing everything in shades of washed out green. The splatter of colors turned into a monochrome mix, then swapped back to the normal palate.]

ERIDAN: I think there might be words in there but it’s too jumbled up with everythin’ else to be clear. Aradia you could shine the light on it if you’re just goin’ to stand there-... Aradia?

[There’s a pause and a shudder, then the scene turns. Aradia was still framed in the doorway. It looked like she hasn’t moved an inch since she stepped in. Her eyes were closed, and when Eridan spoke, she barely tilted her head.]

ARADIA: There’s someone here.

ERIDAN: [Irritated] Really? In the room where he died? He’s had his run of the place for the past two decades there’s no reason to save it for here when the dramatic effect’s already ruined.

ARADIA: Well, it is his room. There’s ownership you have to consider when it comes to where spirits spend their time. Familiarity. I could feel something as we were walking around, but I didn’t feel a presence. Like I do, right now.

DAVE: Open up the supernatural hotline then sis. We’re the pushy ghost telemarketers and he’s the last commission we need before we get delegated back to working three days a week with cut hours.

ARADIA: Okay... Just give me a moment.

[She paused to straighten up, then raised her hands partway into the air. The motion was slow, like she were doing it automatically.]

ARADIA: John..? John are you there?

[Another moment passed, the video seemed to skip several frames forward, showing Aradia was swaying. It was anything but smooth, seeming to jump into each position at a jarring rate, like stop motion done without credence towards what position the doll was in last.]

ARADIA: We want to speak with you... _I_ want to speak with you. I know it has been a long time since you were disturbed, but it doesn’t have to be for very long.

[She stood stock still, then turned her head, looking back out into the hall.]

ARADIA: That’s odd, I feel like something just brushed past-

* * *

The video froze mid-sentence, backed up to the point where Aradia had first started to speak, then resumed. It didn’t seem to fare better the second time around. The audio crackled, then broke completely, the sudden ear shredding screech of electronic noise assaulted their eardrums. The image on screen soon followed suit, shattering into squares of bright greens and deepest purples. The only thing that remained clear, in the center of all the glitchy glory, was Aradia’s face. She appeared to be speaking, but not much more than static corresponded with her lip movements, and blurred images of previous frames were left behind. It ended rather anti-climatically, upon turning her head for the second time, the footage simply glitched beyond recognition. Save for the very right corner of the video, which still showed the last still frame of the dark hallway.

After a moment, the feed switched off. An irate Sollux turned around in his swivel chair to regard the gathered trio with raised eyebrows.

“And that’s it, I fixed up the footage as much as I could,” He said, an equal mix of annoyed and perturbed. “With that fantastic display, everything past the mark becomes a grainy, technicolor soup. Twenty-six minutes and nineteen seconds of that same screen, spreading pixel vomit everywhere. Which leaves me with two questions. What the fuck did you guys do to the poor camera, and how did you manage to dig yourself out of shit mountain?”


	2. Coincidence and Causation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After watching what they could of the film, Eridan, Aradia, Sollux, and Dave discuss what they just witnessed, and fill Sollux in on what he missed.

It was the night after their expedition into the Egbert household. Eridan, Dave, and Aradia were clustered together near the singular island of space which protected against the rest of Sollux’s room, a messy den that seemed smaller than it was stood testament to his reclusive habits. His computer desk, strewn with trash and spare computer parts with exposed wires, was starkly illuminated by two monitors. At this point in the evening, they were the brightest source of light in that room. The light bulbs overhead were either burnt out, or were kept to such dimness that the switch might as well be turned off. Any gleams of sunlight which could have been seeping through the windows was thoroughly stopped by thick black-out curtains which hung heavy with dust, as the main occupant never much saw fit to open them. He enjoyed the quiet, with few distractions to keep him from his work.

Said occupant turned in his swivel chair towards the assembled trio with raised eyebrows, all of their varying expressions similarly illuminated by the glow of the computer screens. Aradia with a pensive, though rather serene, note of interest. She was the one who had actually taken the single spare seat while her cohorts crowded around her. Her face was cupped between both hands as she still stared at the final cut of the production. Namely, her pixelated form in the last still frame, which was slowly being absorbed by the all-encompassing mass. Eridan stood behind her with a more dubious scowl, their hands gripped the back of the chair, used as leverage while they leaned forward for a better look. Dave, meanwhile, was half sitting half leaning on the armrest. His weight made the whole thing list to one side somewhat. If it weren’t for Aradia and Eridan’s counterweight, it’s likely the whole thing would’ve toppled over. His face was utterly unreadable, though he was the first to speak after Sollux’s accusations.

“We didn’t just climb shit mountain,” Dave said, “We reached the summit of the whole insurmountable range. We should have stuck a flag into that steaming pile of manure and put it on the map. Named it Ass Reach for our troubles, then skedaddled when we realized a heaping peak of excrement ain’t actually the greatest beginning to a video empire about ghosts.” He used his free hand to gesture towards the video on-screen. “Yetis, maybe, but if that were the case we’d be out here trying to seduce bigfoot, something we’re not going to find chilling in an abandoned house.”

“It was actually pretty easy, getting out of there,” Aradia added, her voice as thoughtful as she looked, her eyes no longer seeming to reach the screen a mere few feet away. They instead seemed further, far-away in her own musings. “By the time we were done filming, it was about nine o’clock. Late enough that it was easy enough to climb out the same window we came in, without worrying about being seen from the road.”

“Without the hassle of having to use anyone as a makeshift step stool,” Dave inserted, giving Aradia a gentle ribbing. She didn’t appear to notice it, but Sollux, who had expected a much more informative answer, shot him a grim scowl. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, more out of habit than them actually needing to be adjusted, then stated in a clear deadpan.

“I _meant_, what kind of supernatural demonspawn did you inadvertently summon into that room? I’m surprised that AA didn’t immediately start upchucking ectoplasm when it became clear she wasn’t gonna be showing off on film.”

“Well you’ll be pleased to know she didn’t start dolin’ out any of that, as I’m sure she would’ve TOLD you if you hadn’t decided to muddy up what you were sayin’ and what you were actually askin’,” Eridan suddenly interrupted, snatching the question out of the air, though it was not directed towards them.

The effect was almost instant, Sollux’s expression went from annoyed to distinct aggravation as he was forced to acknowledge Eridan’s existence. Usually, the two would pretend not to notice each other when they were forced into close proximity. Their tumultuous ‘rivalry’, as Aradia put it, was often placed pointedly to the side when it came to the matter of video editing as it was one of Sollux’s specialties. Due to their friendship, she was rather insistent on giving him a part in their production. Even if it meant bringing Eridan a bit too close to the sun. So long as both of them pretended that the other didn’t exist, some kind of accord could usually be reached.

Eridan, however, had broken the unspoken truce, and they now glared at Sollux like he'd just spat a rancid loogie at their feet. “A fat lot of NOTHIN’ is what happened, paranormal or otherwise. She stood there for a good two minutes analyzin’ the wavelengths of the spectral currents or whatever before she sat back an’ declared the whole ordeal a false positive.”

“Fantastic, now I’d like to hear it from her, without the wavelengths getting distorted by a prat who has to work to keep from tripping over their own wordspooge when there’s too many W’s in a row,” Sollux’s voice oozed with sarcasm. Eridan opened their mouth to retort, an insult relating to the prominent lisp that laced Sollux’s own words resting right on the tip of their tongue, but Aradia piped up before they could so much as bluster their indignation.

“I suppose I can start with where the camera left off,” She interrupted, “Or, just a few seconds before would be more apt. Getting caught up in the moment can make you forget that not everyone can tell when ghosts get curious, and that everyone else is in the dark when you’re just trying to say hello.” Her hands slowly worked their way into the folds of her skirt, the faraway glaze leaving her eyes. She remembered the moment in almost perfect clarity, the problem was putting the scene into words, succinctness that was so hard to find when the entire concept was abstract and difficult to form into a coherent thought. After a few moments, Aradia decided to more thoroughly expand upon what she had told Eridan and Dave.

“Eridan wasn’t wrong when they said not a lot happened, physically. There wasn’t any whooshes of wind, or chills in the air. I just… Felt him. A feeling that he was present, and wanted to talk, I almost felt like I could take one of his hands if I just… Reached out,” Her hands rose into the air and she gestured faintly, like reaching out to an invisible force. Or, like she were trying to beckon it closer. “But as I tried, it was like… I could feel something, starting to loom up behind me. I knew the door yawned at my back, that there was a big, empty house, and that obviously neither Dave or Eridan saw anything out of the ordinary. I didn’t even want to turn my head at first, in case I’d see the thing which I _knew_ was starting to suck all the space out of that room with its inky, cloying presence. But I also knew it didn’t matter whether I saw, if there was anything there at all. By the time I turned my head, it didn’t matter. It was already gone, and John had disappeared.” Her arms dropped back to her sides as she once again regarded the portrait on the screen. It captured the exact moment both presences had vanished.

“So he decided to disappear,” Dave lifted a hand with all of his fingers pressed together, then opened them all with a soft exhale of breath for emphasis. “Poofed. Gone. Vanished. Went to lunch, back at three, written on a sad sticky note attached to the front window that’s been bleaching in the sun for the past twenty-six years. Ask the locals if that place is ever open and all you get are sad looks and shakes of the head. Before you know it you’re caught in the middle of a reminiscing cycle of old farts because all you wanted to know was whether the fifty-cent bottle of Coke was still a real and valid offer in this economy.”

“So either the shadow wanted to get in on the cheap soda, or it scared John off so badly that Aradia wasn’t able to work her magic?” Sollux asked as he glanced over at Eridan for their reaction, vindicated when the turn of phrase made them visibly twitch.

“I’d say so, and wouldn’t blame him,” Aradia replied. “It didn’t feel very friendly at all, but it does raise the question of where it actually came from. I didn’t feel anything else in that house except for John, up until that moment when it decided to make an appearance, that is.”

“You know, I’m still not entirely clear on what ‘it’ actually is. Y’all keep referring to it as a ‘shadow’, like it’s something other than your traditional spectre still kickin’ back and getting pissy whenever some assholes start falling over themselves to break in,” Dave interjected again. “What was it trying to accomplish, other than trying to crash the party?”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s anything too much to worry about,” Aradia mused. “At least, nothing for us to worry about. It does make me worry that John might be sharing a household with something that isn’t too keen on him. When John tried to reach out, he accidentally got its attention. It could easily be the reason the camera decided to glitch out at the point that it did.”

“For the sake of swill slingin’ fuck would you all just listen to yourselves,” Eridan interrupted with an outburst so exasperated and sudden that it caused Dave to jump a fraction of an inch. They’d clearly been holding back something like it for the entire session, but the small needlings and more grievous annoyances had been piling up until this very tipping point. “Spooky malevolent happenstances takin’ place durin’ the peak of drama? Ghosts attempting to reach through WHATEVER you think a ‘veil’ is meant to be? There are PLENTY of reasons a camera might lose the footage, not least of all, puttin’ it in the hands of a scumball not fit to tell decent hardware from the spare bits he’s plucked outta multitudes of salvaged scrap.”

Before anyone else could respond, Dave, who had gone back to his usual poker face after the twitch in his facade, decided to retort. “I’m all for healthy skepticism, especially when it comes to the Hollywood movie magic Sollux could pull, but he and I are pretty much the same in the sense that if he wanted to corrupt our efforts he would’ve just slam dunked the whole thing into a deep fryer while churning the other half of the files into virtual soup, rather than spend twelve hours editing down what he could salvage. Though he still deserves shit for not putting in the voice over I recorded, with updated and _highly relevant information_.”

“It started out fine, but quickly devolved into which celebrities born in 1996 would win in a death battle, assuming that their ghost still counted as being in the match,” Sollux’s voice was dry, though Dave’s long winded input had tempered his initial inclination to strike at Eridan. He’d slunk down further in his chair, his horrific slouch rearing its head as best as it could, considering it had a spine as bent as his was. “What’s wrong with the files isn’t how it was compressed, or just a minor quirk of being transferred to my computer. If it was, we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now, and you’d be going home with the finished product. I’m good at what I do.”

“It’s still odd though,” Aradia said, in the same serene tone that indicated she wasn’t at all perturbed by the argument. “Next time we’ll have to comb carefully through the footage, to make sure it isn’t corrupted. I wouldn’t want to resort to trying multiple takes, though. That would defeat the whole point of the show, trying to artificially create those kinds of reactions.”

“Alright, nobody tell her the truth about reality TV, we need to preserve this kind of wide-eyed innocence for as long as we can,” Dave said.

“I know that most of it is disingenuous, but that doesn’t mean we have to follow that model,” She pouted. “Especially when ghost shows tend to have the reputation they have.”

“Most of those who watch them are already suspendin’ their disbelief on fraying tether hooks. If it’s trendin’ towards the gullible and naive anyway, a bit of overactin’ and blatant toying with the footage isn’t goin’ to scrape off the veneer,” Eridan grumbled.

“I thought you would be the one advocating for a completely believable experience, one that shakes that mold instead of becoming a pale imitator. I mean come on, that’s why they brought on a skeptic, despite the fact it’s going to alienate the portion of the audience that does believe in the supernatural,” Sollux interjected, the slight scowl playing at the corner of his mouth indicated that he was starting to lose more patience.

“No, fuck wait, that’s not what I MEANT,” Eridan shot back, with more than a bit of vitriol that they’d been misinterpreted. “I was AIMIN’ that towards the hacks who are pullin’ the strings behind the camera, not commentatin’ on how we should fall into the deplorable, oversaturated rut which plagues the whole fuckin’ genre. It’s already bad enough that the footage decided to corrupt the MOMENT Ara started reachin’ out-.”

“Right, and it couldn’t possibly be because ghosts might actually be the answer here. I forgot that we’re just going to disregard the other side of the argument for the sake of yours,” Sollux drawled, like he’d made sure to dip each word in a thick layer of sarcastic grease. It was entirely possible that he wasn’t on board with believing in ghosts either, but if it meant pissing off the overdressed shitheap slowly losing his grip due to anger, then all the better to back up Aradia’s corner. Something he was already likely to do anyway.

“It’s. Just. Coincidence,” Eridan iterated, each word punched with a brutal finality that they longed to aim towards the dual-toned spectacles on the end of the other’s greasy nose. Just to see how far they’d go flying off.

“If coincidence and causation were in a schoolyard brawl, coincidence would be the one coughing up her milk money. At this point you have to acknowledge the fact that it’s gotten weird,” Dave said as he scratched at his ear and glanced someplace off to the side. Eridan swooped on him like an angry dragon, smoke all but billowing from their mouth. It was a good thing that Aradia was still trying to continue the discussion about the video, lest it get pushed to the sidelines in favor of dramatics.

“Sollux? Didn’t you say you found some things while editing the video? Maybe that would help lend more credence to anything paranormal that might’ve been going on,” She leaned forward, eager to see more of what Sollux found, but also giving Eridan a soft jab with her elbow as she did. They seemed to get the hint, though they weren’t particularly happy about it. Smoke turned to grumbling steam as they settled back on her behest. Sollux, for his part, merely swiveled around in his chair and tapped a few keys without looking at them, then pulled up a video clip he’d isolated from the rest.

Eridan, Dave, and Aradia once again clustered close together for a better view._ “Find anything interesting up there?”_ Aradia’s voice once again called from the video, at which the sound of Dave’s voice floated down the stairs in answer. Looking around for squatters, he’d said, though implored them to stop taking their sweet ass time. As they carefully headed their way up the stairs, only pausing for a moment to check out the odd markings on the walls, they eventually joined Dave in John’s old room, the former splayed out over the bed. Sollux paused the video then, his thin eyebrows slightly raised as he regarded them for any trace of realization. “Question to the class, did anyone see what was wrong with that picture?”

“Eridan really needs to point the camera in the same direction I’m pointing the flashlight?” Aradia suggested.

“No, but I’ll come back to that point,” Sollux turned again and clicked the back arrow key a few times, the video resumed a good thirty seconds earlier. Dave seemed to pick up on what wasn’t quite right the second time around, the deep thumping of footsteps while they were still heading up the stairwell. The way he reacted, it was like someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt.

“I’m hearing footsteps that shouldn’t be there,” He said suddenly, his fingers curled tightly around the armrest as stood up stock straight. Eridan and Aradia gave him a questioning look so he continued to explain, as it wasn’t immediately obvious. “You can hear footsteps on the second floor, when I can tell you without a fraction of a doubt I’d just been kicking back on the bed while I waited for y’all to mosey on upstairs.”

“I didn’t think that you would be bumbling around the upstairs like that, especially when the scene opens up to you chilling with a battery powered TV on your chest. Even then, you usually walk around like a skittish cat, not like someone with both feet stuck in toasters,” Sollux responded, once again playing the footage back just in case it hadn’t fully sunk in. While the look of startled realization hit both Aradia and Eridan at once, the look of sheer excitement in her eyes the day, while Eridan’s exasperation the night, he wound the clip forward about another minute and a half.

The camera now veered upwards towards the bedroom wall, the glow of Aradia’s flashlight illuminated about half of the crayon scrawlings that littered almost every inch of it, though the peeling paint had stripped some of the artistry away. He paused the video this time rather than let the clip play, advanced a few frames so that the picture wasn’t blurred by the automatic adjusting of the camera lense, then shifted over to the graphical settings. He increased the contrast, then adjusted the lighting. Though slightly overexposed, it was easier to make out the scribbles now that they were shown in a fallacy of daylight. Sollux waited a beat to allow the image to speak for itself, and sure enough, Dave was once again the first to point out the oddity.

“Looks like a good heaping of self-loathing with a side of fries.”

“What do you mean?” Aradia asked as she squinted at the image, unable to see how the random array of wax practically carved into the wall could have more meaning to it. With the image now steady, however, it became easier to see how the childish graffiti could align itself into letters. “Are those words on top of everything? That handwriting is worse than yours.” A pause, “I guess that explains how you’re able to read it, though.”

“I TOLD you there was somethin’ more to it, but you all got distracted with the ghost tomfoolery to stop an’ figure out what’s actually THERE and tangible,” Eridan groaned, but began to read out the words, for Aradia’s sake. “Says, and what a way with prose to go along with the nigh unintelligble penmanship, ‘Big dumb idiot’. Near the green arrow pointin’ towards the headboard. I can’t TELL you the last time I’ve been this moved by the first line of a haiku.”

“‘Why won’t he go away?’,” Dave read the stark red words that were to the left of the green text. The ends of the sentence started to veer downwards, as it had hit the corner of the wall. The writer evidently didn’t want it to continue onto the next. He rubbed at his sleeve, his eyes suddenly locked onto another scrawling. It was deep blue and just as unassuming as the others, but it seemed to have such a weight and draw to it that he nearly missed out on what Aradia wondered aloud, so busy was he reading over the letters again and again to make sure it wasn’t simply the bad penmanship.

“‘He?’” She echoed. “Is he referring to himself in the third person there, or something else, you think?” The question hung in the air for a beat too long, before the most obvious contrarian stepped forward to make sure it didn’t sink too far in.

“There’s nothin’ here to imply that it’s referrin’ to… _Whatever_ it is you might’ve felt,” Eridan stated. “It could just be relevant information pertainin’ to John’s mental state. Hell, it could be a relic from after he died, whoever was squattin’ in the house could’ve decided to liven up the place with puerile impressionistic murals.”

“Just pointing out that it_ could have_ happened after his death isn’t going to prove your point, dipshit. You have to provide evidence instead of wild speculation I could find by spending two minutes on any skeptic’s shitblog,” Sollux said more evenly than the words warranted.

“I don’t see Team Ghost offerin’ much better,” Eridan hissed back. “Disembodied footsteps? Vague an’ ominous writin’ that could be referrin’ to ANYTHIN’ by ANYONE? Not to _mention_ the fact that lost a good chunk of evidence flowin’ either which way.”

“Hey, random speculation is my middle name. But lying on our backs and listing out everything on the proverbial corkboard isn’t going to do shit until we get more answers,” Dave spoke up, still under the impression that breaking the flow of their argument would keep the tension from boiling over. “We need to collect more red string to adorn each of the crazy statements just to see how many times Aradia and Eridan try to out-fact each other.”

“Then that’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Aradia announced, getting to her feet so suddenly that it caused a minor catastrophe. Dave, who was still leaning far too much of his weight onto that chair, overbalanced it in a way that nearly caused him to crash into Eridan, who only managed to keep the both of them standing by the simple fact that they were still gripping it like they intended to tear it into two distinct halves. The perpetrator, however, still spoke, a broad smile grew on her face for the first time since she viewed the video.

“Dave’s right, we can’t just sit here and bicker endlessly about what does and doesn’t exist, when we only have half the evidence and half the recording to go on. We don’t have nearly enough evidence to judge based on that, so we’ll need to be far more direct!” She practically bounced on the balls of her feet, her hands just as animated and gestured towards each of her friends in turn. “Sollux, you can try to dig up more information online, I was only able to find a few scattered articles from years ago. The case was sealed up pretty tight due to the fact John was a minor. Even a few of those crime scene photos would prove whether the crayon scribbles were there before or after the fact of his death. And Dave-,”

“Hold on there, I’d like about two seconds to catch up to this sudden runaway train,” Dave said, somewhat recovered from the fall, but still utterly reeling from the rapid fire shift.

“It’s no use Dave, once the manic light enters her eyes, there’s no stopping it,” Sollux had seen it many times before, as she got excited digging up a new find, or when she was recounting a story told to her by a ghost. At this point, the rest of them would have to be prepared to get swept along for the ride.

“We just have to start playing smarter _and_ harder,” She told them as she spun around, only to see that everyone looked just as caught in the headlights. She seemed to take pity, taking her excitement back a notch. “Look, like Eridan said before, there’s something screwy going on here, even if it has nothing to do with the fact that the house is haunted.”

“Did I say that?” Eridan said, expression blank. They were still firmly in the combative mindset, so it took a few moments for them to disengage and reorient back into someone agreeing with them. It sunk in after a few moments, once they’d actually had a moment to digest it. “You mean, all the upright haphazardous claims they were makin’, only to pin them on the father, who completely disappeared?”

“Exactly!” She pointed towards them, “Which is why you’re going to be the one who’s going to try and get those sealed reports directly from the police station.”

“Excuse me?” They sputtered, it was like getting a slap on the other cheek after having a moment to get accustomed to the first one. “Those reports are over twenty years old, the likelihood of ‘em handin’ em off to a pryin’ independant researcher is slim to fuckin’ none.”

“Which is exactly why you’re going to be the one doing it,” Aradia stated, “You’re stubborn enough not to be deterred by heaps of bureaucratic bullcrap. You can ask Terezi to help if you think-”

"I can do it myself," Eridan said quickly, the ruse worked exactly as Aradia expected. They still looked uncertain, and they eventually conceded, "Still not goin' to be easy, but obviously outta us four I'm the most capable of gettin' it done."

“Wonderful! Then, Dave,” Aradia returned to the first person she'd addressed, now that they’d shaken off the questions which kept her from it before. “Just keep an eye on the house, make sure to tell us if anyone else is taking any odd interest in it, and especially watch out for anyone who might’ve noted that we’re sticking our noses in. On… Let’s say Wednesday, so we have a bit of time to research. We’re going to go back in, far more prepared this time-”

“I can’t do Wednesday,” Dave interrupted again, his hands held up in a ‘time-out’ pose now that he had the free hands to do so. “I already made plans with Rose for that night, and she’s already giving me the hard side-eye ever since I got home late last night.” A poignant pause. “Look I’m surprised I’ve managed to keep my mouth shut for this long about it too, just let me see if I can ride that wave for a little bit longer, okay?”

“Okay,” Aradia conceded, her brain mentally skipping forward a bit. “So, how about Thursday evening? I know for a fact that we're all free, except for-”

“We’re not goin’ to cancel D&D night for the SOLE PURPOSE of treadin’ familiar ground back at the shithouse,” Out of everything, this is what caused Eridan to sound the most indignant. They practically gawped at her, like she’d just suggested that they remove the entire month of July from the calendar.

“Yeah, we’re not skipping next session. Purrmusk was right on the brink of some serious character development. If I lose my groove that’s going to be at the detriment of his entire story arc,” Said Dave, with the same level of utter seriousness.

“Friday-, crap, I can’t do Friday either. That leaves…” She sighed, “Saturday, nearly a full week from now. At least school won’t be an issue, since it’s the weekend. Anyone have any objections to that?” She asked with a sincere hope that they wouldn’t have to put it off any longer.

The three looked at each other. Dave at Eridan, raising his bleached eyebrows high enough that they could be seen above his shades, the latter shrugging before they looked to Aradia, who rolled her eyes. “Saturday, then.” She took a moment to get back on her train of thought, twisting her bushy brown hair around one finger. “Not only are we going to get back the footage we lost, we’re also going to be a lot more forthright when talking to the ghosts,” As the scheme came together, a small smile touched her lips, until it eventually spread across her cheeks into a wide grin, full of mischief and the threat of schemes surely to come.

Dave gave her an overblown salute now that everything was completely hashed out, then turned and started heading for the door. “You heard the woman, everybody pack up your shit, we just upgraded our rank from teen delinquents to private investigators. Grab your badges at the door with the complementary multicolor plastic wristbands and pens. We’re still working on a name to print on them, but hey, all the official dudes have that shit.”

“Well, that’s a good enough call to action that I feel justified in telling you all to get the fuck out of my room,” Sollux said snidely as he reached to disconnect the flash drive containing the video, then the more slightly involved process of disconnecting Eridan’s camera from his computer. The former was handed off with a nod to Aradia, though Eridan had theirs returned with something more like a dismissive thrust. This started another healthy round of argument centered around Sollux treating their property with more respect, which Aradia made no move to stop this time. Instead she watched with keen interest, no need to try and keep them on track now that all the nitty gritty details have been hashed out.

Unfortunately, with Eridan being Dave’s ride, he couldn’t exactly leave without waiting for it to come to a close. With no hope of it doing so with any degree of expedience, he simply made amends with his fate of being the awkward fourth hate wheel. He leaned back against the wall, against what looked to be a hand drawn schematic of some sort that Sollux had pinned there, as he watched with less interest than Aradia currently did.

As the argument grew slowly more heated, Dave couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to before, to what he’d seen on the camera but had been hesitant to bring up. The subject had quickly moved on, with clear indication that no one else had seen it. Though it was tame, and rather expected from demented childish drawing one would see on the wall of a spooky-ass abandoned house, the words popped back into his mind with a prevailing stickiness he was sure he wouldn’t be able to escape by just thinking of something more pleasant. The phrase, ‘Just die already’ written onto the wall, the navy blue crayon so thick it was clear the writer had all but smashed it onto the flat surface. It was almost so distorted that he still could explain it away by simply telling himself he’d misread the handwriting, but so sure that he’d read it correctly there wasn’t any doubt in his mind it could be anything else.

The uncertain, dreadful feeling that had been building in his gut since the day before raced up his spine, the sign of an unavoidable sickness that he had been poorly attempting to hide. Only now, with Aradia grabbing Sollux by the back of his shirt to keep him from leaping on Eridan like he was something feral, did he linger on those thoughts. If only so he could use the words he’d read as an excuse for the shudder which suddenly wracked through him, without anyone else to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Jake (and Jay too!) for proofreading and offering writing tips. Thanks for Pesterquest for vindicating me in non-binary Eridan, even if the rest wasn't... too great. And thank you for reading! I had this mostly in my drafts for about two months before I finally got the wherewithal to finish it.


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